Normal

Normal is a difficult concept. Wordnet gives several shades of meaning:
- conforming with or constituting a norm or standard or level or type or social norm; not abnormal
- in accordance with scientific laws
- being approximately average or within certain limits in e.g. intelligence and development "a perfectly normal child"; "of normal intelligence"; "the most normal person I've ever met"

Which of these, I wonder, applies in the case of my looking for a normal bra?

I went to the mall today, the little bitty mall, the one the kids call the "shit mall" (the grad student kids at least). It was air conditioned, nice to get out of the house to somewhere other than a medical establishment or campus. I bought some sale stuff - things I had intended to buy for a while, which is always good.

Generally satisfied with my selections, I decided to quickly look over the offerings of bras since the ones in my drawer are in various states of decay. I hardly wear the fuckers in the winter but in the summer time I am resigned to needing to strap on the evil contraptions as the least over-heating way to preserve what constitutes "normal" modesty in those contexts that require it.

Problem is, my having not shopped for bras in years (and years) leaves me with few options in these summer months. I have one of the whachacallems, racerback bras that is in reasonably good repair. This is one of the better ones as it has no tears in it and the elastic stitching has sustained enough to hold it on and in place. Even this one has been through hell. I recently had to wrestle the plastic hook out of the vent hole in a dryer. Some of the hook broke, but it still snaps so I still wear it. The other choices involve the dark green threadworn satin and ripped lace one and the white floral thing which has been slowly turning itself inside out even on me.

I didn't have high hopes for finding a bra that wasn't evil. Most bras are evil - you just look for the one that is less so. Even the language that goes with bras is evil. Push up, under wire, center gore, plunge, rigid straps.

While I expect some disapointment when bra shopping, I wasn't prepared for the level of malice that the bra makers that be must holding towards women these days - towards flat chested women in particular ("Wonder bra. Your not-so-secret weapon will mash and torture those little B cups into a more presentable C so you can fight the good fight). It turns out if I wanted a bra with actual straps and cups and not just the undifferentiated band of suffocating lycra spandex cottonish fabric that they call a sports bra, my only choices were padded monstrosities. Padded monstrosities in a variety of colors, fabric, and with any number of trims for the large chested lady who wants to easily fend off any bullets that might happen to be streaking towards her décolletage.

I pretended to fall and hit my head on one of the monstrosities. "Oh thank god that big gianormous pad was there!" I said loudly to my fella A____ who was watching my mall theater. Shortly after, a customer service person was sent to Intimates. I kept looking but kept my editorials to quiet giggles and muttered curses.

I do remember when all the bras went underwire. It was difficult then but sometimes perseverence paid off in a soft cup. This gave me hope I might find something yet. Eventually, I spied a cluster of straps hanging more or less weightlesslyv around a rack. I ran over to examine the cup design. No mondo pillows, that was good. No scaffolding, also a bonus. And it was sort of like a bra, but not quite. More like a halter. Looser than the sports bra-constrictors, but tighter than a t-shirt. Some definition on the cups but not as much as I wanted. I looked at the tag. It turned out that in my hand, I held a "bralette".

Those were my choices. Bra-constrictor, bomber bra, or bralette. I guess I'm left with the scraggly looking but faithfully comfy rags in my wardrobe until the fashion lords that be stop building bras like warships and make some normal bras again.